Those Days We Lived
by SilentFaith
Summary: In the ruins of North America lies the nation of Hydra. Natasha is ripped from her family and thrown into the Hunger Games with her best friend Clint. She promises to get him out of there alive, but what happens if he makes a similar promise? And how is she supposed to fake being in love with him will surviving the games? Hunger Games AU
1. The Tributes

**Summary:** In the ruins of North America lies the nation of Hydra. Natasha is ripped from her family and thrown into the Hunger Games with her best friend Clint. She promises to get him out of there alive, but what happens if he makes a similar promise? And how is she supposed to roll with the punches and fake being in love with him with the other twenty-two tributes trying to kill the them? And don't even start on the Gamemakers.

**Author's Note:** I've been wanting to do a Hunger Games AU for a while. This has the Avengers - or, really only Clint and Natasha, and a few other recognizable characters - and Agents of SHIELD characters - but no spoilers for either since it's an AU. Enjoy.

* * *

"No, c'mon, stay with me! Hey, hey, it's going to be all right. I promise. Please, just stay with me. It's okay..." Her voice drops, and she cup the other's face in their hands. "It's okay."

* * *

The rabbit hops closer. It eyes the berries, its nose twitching as it crept closer. The girl dares not move, dares not breathe too loud. She is positioned in a tree just above the snare, eyes squinted in the morning sun. She hadn't had good meat in days, so, yes, she thought that cute, adorable bunny would make a great stew. The rabbit was just about the trip wire -

"Hey, 'Tasha!"

Natasha's head whips around to see Clint a few yards away, crashing through the underbrush with an idiotic grin spreading on his idiotic face. She turns and glares at the empty trap, the rabbit nowhere to be found.

She shakes her head, and begins climbing down. She jumps from the lowest branch, still a couple of yards from the ground, and lands in a crouch. She looks back at the boy, who was now leaning on a tree near hers, and pretending he wasn't laughing, his things thrown haphazardly down by his feet.

"Damn it, Clint!" Natasha hisses. She picks up a rocked and hurled it at him, hitting him in his arm.

"Woah, hey, ow. That hurt!" Clint says, pouting and rubbing his arm. His eyes betray him though, amusement shining in his baby blues clear as day.

"You couldn't have waited two seconds? How did you even find me?" Natasha asks, frustrated, crossing her arms and walking towards him, ready to smack him but holding herself back.

"Your hair," he answers, tugging on one of the red curls and smirking. Natasha slaps his hand away.

"That's the first rabbit I've seen all morning."

"Want something better?" Clint asks, picking up his wooden bow and slinging his make-shift quiver over his shoulder.

"What?" she asks warily, watching as he walked past her. He only gives a smug grin over his shoulder before ducking under some tangled scrubs.

Natasha hesitates, considering just leaving him and going on her way to catch other game. But, as always, she follows him.

Clint doesn't say another word, just walks along as quiet as possible, and Natasha was thankful for his silence. She was hoping he had found tracks and was leading her to some good game, but instead she caught side of their hidden place, a ledge on the edge of a rocky cliff, safe from prying eyes by the bushes of berries finding refuge there.

"This is better than a rabbit?" Natasha asks. "The rock we go to nearly everyday?"

"No, but I thought we should eat the bread while it's still hot," Clint said. "Besides, the sun's hardly up. We've got plenty of time until two." He pulls out a loaf of bread from his bag. Warm, bakery bread, not the kind the poor families of the Seam make themselves. Natasha's mouth watered.

"Where did you even get that?" she inquired, eyeing it hungrily. She didn't eat anything before leaving the house, though that wasn't exactly out of the ordinary.

"Caught the baker as he was throwing out the trash earlier. Promised him a squirrel for it," Clint said, sitting on the ledge and nodding his head to the space next to him. Natasha sits and the boy tears the bread into two pieces, giving his friend the bigger half. She takes a bite and moans, giving Clint a small smile.

"Does it make up for the rabbit?" he asked, ripping of a bite with his teeth. Natasha nodded, and the two sat in silence, and occasionally they picked a tart berry or two off the bushes. Finally, Clint spoke.

"How many times his your name in?" Natasha had been dreading this conversation. He already knew, of course, but each year, the morning before the Reaping, he always insisted on asking. It was a tad weird, but Clint liked numbers. He counted out his arrows and throwing knives, he knew how many tesserae entries they both had, and he always knew the number of hours before school, before Barney came home from the mines, before May would start worrying a bit about Natasha when she and Clint went on these hunting trips. It gave him a sort of comfort, so Natasha didn't have anything against it. Better the numbers than focusing on the hell hole the lived in.

"Twenty-two," she says, looking over the tree tops in the distance to the rolling hills far beyond.

"Twenty-two out of eight thousand," Clint said.

"I like those odds." He nods. It is obvious that he doesn't.

"What about you?"

"Twenty-five." Natasha grimaces and opens her mouth to speak. He gives her a sidelong glance and stops her, muttering, "Don't."

"But-"

"We've had this conversation before. The way I see it, I've still been in the games longer than you. This is my last year, and in the next you'll get more tesserae count than I have now. Besides, I don't care about that. I care about you and your family, so, yeah."

Natasha sighs. Only a year after they had met, had become friends, Clint started getting tesserae for the younger kids. An act that she would be forever grateful for, but still hated. Grant had wanted to start, especially now that he was fourteen, but she and May refused. And there was no way that she would let Jemma or Leo even think about it.

They are silent, Clint chewing slowly on a handful of berries and Natasha tearing her last small chunk bread into tiny pieces. She gathers them and pops them in her mouth.

"We could do it, y'know." Clint's gaze is far away. "We could run away."

"What would Melinda do? She has three kids to look after, only one of which can hunt - maybe. Grant's still not that good," Natasha said, pointedly not looking at Clint.

"We can bring them with us. Barney, Melinda, the kids."

"Really? Leo and Jemma in the woods?" Natasha scoffs, shaking her head. Clint shuts up and leans back.

"Happy Hunger Games," the redhead says, hoping to lighten the mood by throwing a berry at Clint's head.

"And may the odds be ever in your favor," he says in the somewhat silly Capitol accent, pushing her playfully. "Now, c'mon. I'm going to pay you back for that rabbit." He hops of the ledge, and was off before Natasha could say a thing.

She can't see him in the thick green underbrush, but she can hear him walking and was able to follow. They worked so much together in the years, Clint knew exactly how much noise to make to lead her. Finally she finds him crouching in some shrubs near a small opening in the thick trees.

She slowly approaches him, sits on her knees next to him, and waits. As the minutes ticked by, the two never speak, neither even moving. Natasha finally sighs, only to have Clint shush her with his hand. She is about to fight back with some angry response when she finally sees something worth bringing home. Two wild turkeys came into the clearing. Natasha readies a throwing knife and Clint raises his bow. He drew the arrow back, and Natasha heard him draw in a breath before letting it go. The small, sharp, deadly knife leaves her hand a second after the arrow did the bow. The first turkey takes an arrow to the eye, and the second a knife to the throat. Both fall to the ground, silent after a moment.

"Nice throw," Clint says, breaking into a grin as he stood and offered Natasha a hand. They inspect their kills, and decide they should head back to the Seam. Clint carries both their kills, waiting as Natasha picks a gallon of strawberries from a patch they stumbled upon. Jemma loved strawberries.

They make it under the supposedly electrified fence that wasn't on - shocker - and hurry through the Meadow to Clint's house on the edge. As it was only nearing eleven, the streets in the Seam were nearly abandoned. Barney, having the day off from the mines to watch the reaping, greets them at the door and takes the kills from Clint. As Natasha follows the younger of the brothers through the door, Clint's stupid yellow cat hisses and swipes at her from a shelf on top of the door.

"Be nice, Buttercup!" Clint scolds the cat, as if it makes a difference to the mangy animal.

"I still don't know why you didn't kill that thing the first time you saw it," Natasha comments, sitting at the old dinner table in a rickety chair.

"I ask myself that everyday, Natasha," Barney says from across the room, already preparing the turkeys.

"Aw, c'mon, 'Tasha! He's kind of cute in a weird, ugly way!" Clint picks up the cat with little protest from the feline and hugged it to his chest. Natasha had to admit, the thing loved Clint as much as it hated her. "Maybe it's your hair," she remembered him saying when they were younger.

"No, he's ugly in an ugly way," she responds.

"Wow, nice comeback." Clint set the cat down, and Buttercup almost looked offended. For something in such horrible condition when Clint found it and pitied it, Buttercup sure got used to being coddled.

"Hey, Clint. Why don't you two go trade whatever else you have? You can't go out with this meat later today, not with all those idiot Peacekeepers running around." Barney looks over at them, gesturing towards to strawberries. Natasha nods and stands, grabbing them and Clint before walking out of the door.

Walking through District Twelve, it was easy to see it was a Reaping day. Everyone working in the coal mines had the day off, and most businesses in the town are closed. Natasha and Clint make their way through the streets, passing by the Hob on their way, though they didn't have anything of worth to trade on the black market at that moment, so most of the booth owners ignore them. Arriving at the mayor's house, Natasha knocks on the door while Clint, who was made a pack mule, shifts the bucket of strawberries in his arms.

Antoine Triplett, the mayor's son, opens the door. He was in Grant's grade, and was the closest that boy had to a friend beside his siblings. Antoine was close to Jemma, too. He always treated Natasha with respect, and like her sister, he had a taste for strawberries. Today he was wearing a nice black button shirt with black pants and shoes. The dark outfit drew attention to the pin stuck in his shirt. It was a pretty gold thing, looked like a bird. A hawk, maybe.

"Hello Natasha, Clint," Antoine says, nodding at them. Natasha handed the strawberries to him, and he took them with a small smile. "Thanks."

"That's a - um - interesting get-up, there," Clint says, gesturing at him with his now frees hands.

"He means you look nice," Natasha responds, giving Clint a look. "I like the pin."

"Don't tell my mom that," Antoine replies, giving them a lopsided smile. "She acted like Hell would break loose if I didn't wear it, even when I was dead-set against it."

The three share a short laugh before Natasha and Clint say goodbye to the younger boy and start heading home.

"Twelve thirty-five," Clint reads from a clock in one of the shops windows.

"I should head home," Natasha said.

He nodded. "I'll see you at two."

"See you at two." The two parted ways, and Natasha hurried home.

It's one by the time she arrives. Grant opens the door and immediately went to talking about any kills that she got and did she get any and how big were the turkeys? Leo and Jemma run over, and she notices that all three kids were already dressed up. Grant and Leo wore the same outfit, a white button-up shirt and nice, brown pants. Jemma has her hair pulled back away from her face, and wears one of Natasha old dresses. It's a pretty thing, the prettiest thing Natasha ever owned, dark blue with flowing sleeves just above the wrist and a skirt that ends just below Jemma's knees. It looks beautiful on the girl, whom of which was picking at the basket of strawberries in Natasha's hands.

"These are for after dinner," the oldest sibling says, but she can't ignore the pout of Jemma's face, so she gives them each a few berries before shooing them away so she could get ready herself. May greets her in the kitchen and takes the basket with a grateful glance.

"It's nice to have something to look forward to," Melinda says, gesturing towards the kids chatting loudly in the front room.

"Besides the reaping?" Natasha comments sarcastically, about to go off on a tangent, but the woman's look silences her.

"There's hot water for you in the back," Melinda says finally. Natasha's surprised, a hot bath is hard to come by considering boiling the water on the stove takes up so much time.

"Thanks." Melinda only nods in response, focusing on cleaning the shabby kitchen.

Natasha leaves her and goes to wash up. As she rings her hair out, she sees what May has put out for her on a chair just out of reach of the tub. She dries off and she eyes the clothing, recognizing it as some of Melinda's old clothing. A pure white shirt with ruffles down the middle and a sleek, long black skirt that went up to her midriff and down to a few inches above her knees. Looking in the cracked mirror in the corner, Natasha can she why the women picked it out for her. She was petite, but the clothes brought out her more... womanly features, and Natasha actually finds herself taking longer looking in the mirror than she ever did. She combs her curls with her fingers and walks back to the front room, hunting for her good shoes.

Grant, Leo, and Jemma are huddled together, standing in the middle of the front room. Natasha slips on her shoes, then notices Leo's shirt is untucked in the back. Smiling she walks over the trio and ruffles Leo's hair.

"Tuck in your tail, little duck," she says.

Leo grins and does so with a, "Quack."

Jemma giggles and quacks back, and even though Grant rolls his eyes there's a smile there too. May walks over and smiles - a rarity in itself, before frowning and trying to smooth back Grant's hair.

"Argh. Melinda..." he whines.

"You want to look good. We may be the poorest district, but that doesn't mean you have to look scruffy on national television." The dark-haired woman looks at the clock. "We should go." It's one thirty. Natasha feels the anxiety begin to build up but she pushes it back down.

The kids nod solemnly, because suddenly the Reaping is here, and it's Jemma and Leo's first year. Thank god it's only their first year. Clint may not like twenty-two out if eight thousand, but he can't argue the one of out eight thousand isn't much better.

The family leaves the house and begins walking to the town square. Other families walk, parents with a hand on their children's shoulders or an arm slung around them. Some have already lost theirs on a day like today. Natasha's eyes dart over the sullen faces, taking in the trembling first years and the other children's nervously hopeful expressions.

Grant, Leo, and Jemma walk ahead of her and May, Leo babbling about some book he'd read and how he was sure he could make a more efficient alarm for the coal mine, and the other two nod along. Natasha looks at Melinda, and Melinda give her a look of her own.

"Something on your mind?"

How can you always read it? Natasha's red curls bounced as she shook her head. "Happy Hunger Games."

Melinda scoffs. "Yeah."

They make it to the square a few minutes before two. Natasha sees the Barton brothers and waves them over. Barney pats his brother on the back, and Melinda presses a kiss to the temple of each of her wards, even Natasha, and the two adults join the main crowd. Clint puts his arms around Leo and Grant, a goofy smile on his face as he leads them to sign in on the boys' side. Jemma clings to Natasha's skirt, nervousness now apparent on her face.

Natasha smooths the other girl's hair, and walks her to the section filled with other twelves. She places a kiss on the other girl's forehead and stands with the other female seventeens. She settles in next to another girl, one that may actually be considered a friend, Bobbi Morse. They nod at each other, before turning their attention toward the stage before the Justice Building. Three chairs are set up to Natasha's right. The podium is in the middle, and on either side the glass balls filled with every eligible child's names at least once, on for boys, one for girls.

On one chair sits Antoine's father, Mayor Triplett. Next to him sits Maria Hill, District 12's escort from the Capitol, who's dark hair is done up in a bun. She's wearing a dark blue jumpsuit, seemingly supposed to resemble a coal miners outfit for the occasion. It, and Maria's face, is accented with a light, rosy pink - heavily. Maria looks to be trying to keep a cheery demeanor, but both she and the Mayor keep glancing at the third, uninhabited chair.

The town clock town strikes two, though, so the Mayor stands, and with one last questioning and concerned look at the empty chair, begins his speech about the history of Hydra, of the wars between the districts and Capitol, and of the Hunger Games. Natasha zones out - everyone's already heard it before - and instead finds Clint in the boys' pen to her left. He's closer to the stage, but has managed to angle his body to face the stage but enable him to make that stupid, ridiculous face at Natasha, who tries not to laugh in spite of everything.

"It is both a time of repentance and a time of thanks," the mayor intones. Mayor Triplett begins to read the list of victors of District 12. It doesn't take him very long as they only have two. One is dead, and one is still alive. Nick Fury, a man before Natasha's time, and the living victor, Phil Coulson. Phil Coulson is a middle-aged man, who at that very moment stumbles on stage in a specially tailored wrinkled suit, and who is very, very drunk.

He falls onto his chair and proceeds to grope a very uncomfortable Maria in means of a hello. The crowd applauds the lone victor's entrance, and there's jeering from some adults in the back. Phil stands, waving with an extremely inebriated grin before swaying a little to far to the right. He tries to catch himself but ends up falling off the stage. Natasha closes her eyes as she tries not to roll them. The mayor in his increasing distress of District 12 being, yet again, the laughing-stock of the Games, relinquishes the podium to Maria.

Maria smiles and strides forward, though its clear she's a bit shaken and her bun is in disarray. "Happy Hunger Games," she says in a bright, clear tone. "And may the odds be _ever_ in your favor!" Her smiles says she's happy to celebrate another games, but her eyes say she'd be in the games herself to get bumped up to a better district.

Natasha's eyes, however, find Clint. This times she lets herself roll her eyes as Clint makes an inappropriate face at her. She can see, thought, the tightness in his shoulders. _It's only twenty-five_, she mouths. He shakes his head.

_Not the numbers I'm worried about_, he mouths back.

It's time for the drawing. Maria Hills says, "Ladies first!" in the cheering tone that makes Natasha want to smack her, and reaches into the glass bowl. A pit of anxiety forms in the redhead's stomach, and her hands ball into fists of their own accord. She squeezes her eyes shut and prays. _Please, not Jemma_. It's irrational, Jemma's name is only in there once, she knows, but when have the odds ever been in her favor? _Please, please, please. Not Jemma._

The odds aren't in her favor. They never are. But as Maria Hill calls out the female tribute and Natasha's green eyes open and she finds everyone else's trained on her, her first thought is to be more specific next time she prayed.

"Natasha Romanoff!"


	2. Chapter 2

Natasha does remember her parents, but it's foggy. The details in her memories are random. Her father's face has faded, but his voice, deep and comforting, remains, singing her to sleep. Her mother's hair used to be as bright as her own, but it grew into a lovely auburn as she got older. Natasha's father used to take her out in the woods beyond the fence, though it was illegal and she couldn't have been more than six. He'd carry her on his shoulders and point out berries and herbs and even let her taste them, if they were any good. He was the one who taught her how to hunt and set snares.

One time, on a sunny, warm day, after a good hunt, they had walked right into a patch of yellow and purple wild flowers. Natasha had squealed in delight and soon she had an armful of them. She skipped along with her father the rest of the way home. She had seen her mother's face light up in the window as she took the two in, strolling through the Meadow. Her mother was delighted, putting the flowers in the vase and moving excitedly around the kitchen, skinning and preparing their bounty with her father.

They had lived on a house just on the edge of the Seam. Natasha still passed it from time to time. They were such a happy little family. Another warm, sunny day, her parents asked a friend, Melinda May, to watch her. Melinda was young then, a few years younger than her own parents. They left her with hugs and kisses and promises to be back soon, but Natasha could feel it in the air, like a storm brewing. Even at only seven, she could sense a change. It was three days before the concerned Melinda May got the news. The Romanoff's escape plan failed, the couple was killed only nine miles past the border.

Natasha remembers it. Not like the other, happy memories. She remembers it vividly. She remembers the optimistic and bright-eyed young adult May used to be, kneeling down to Natasha's height, taking the small girl's shoulders, looking her in the eye and explaining, carefully, why her parents weren't coming home. Then answering the inquisitive young girl's questions. Then hugging her to her chest and whispering soft, comforting things and stroking her hair when it finally clicked and the feeling set in. When Natasha realized that her parents were never coming back.

That feeling was very similar to this one. Except, she's the one who's not coming back.

Natasha can feel the eyes on her, but she doesn't look at Clint, or Grant, or Leo. Especially not sweet little Jemma, or her mask of indifference would crack and she would break down then and there.

"Natasha Romanoff?" Maria Hill says, looking around to find the new tribute.

Bobbi, nice as she is, grabs Natasha's hand and gives it a quick squeeze. It's enough to get Natasha out of her stupor, and it prompts her to start walking. She makes it to the large clearing between the boys' pen and the girls' pen when a sob breaks out amongst the silent, solemn crowd.

"'Tasha! 'Tasha!" Jemma runs over and clings to the older girl's skirt, hindering her pace.

"Jemma, go find mom," she says, gently but forcibly shoving the small, crying girl in Melinda's direction.

"No, don't go! Please, don't go, 'Tasha!" Peace Keepers are walking over now and Natasha's anxiety level rises exponentially. Strong arms lift Jemma away, but it's Grant who has her, whispering calm words in her hair and walking backwards as he pulls his kicking, sobbing sister away. The older girl doesn't miss the look he gives her.

Natasha turns back to the stage, back to the pink smile of Maria Hill, back to the concerned face of the Mayor. Numbness sets in and she walks on autopilot up the stairs attached to the stage, even lets Maria take her hand when Natasha stumbles a bit.

She finds Melinda's face in the crowd near the back of the square. The look of anguish on the usually stoic woman's face and Barney's concerned expression next to her makes the girl rip her gaze away. She can't look at her siblings, or Clint. She finds Bobbi instead, who's look of contained hope only acts to confuse Natasha, instead of break her heart.

Maria give a breathy smile. "Well, then. On to the boys." Her bright pink heals clicked as she walked over to the glass ball. She certainly knows how to create suspense, Natasha thought, eyeing the escort while trying to distract herself from... well, everything else. She draws a name and opens it when she gets in front of the microphone. She clears her throat and -

"Leopold Fitz!"

The world seems to stop spinning. Natasha knows it doesn't, but the feeling in her chest is like the sky falling and crushing her. It's suffocating and she can't seem to get enough air and the silence, the _silence -_

Even the rowdy bettors in the back, gambling on Natasha and how far she'd make it in the Games a moment before are silent. Because it's a twelve-year-old going into the bloodbath. Because it's the broken, little family full of orphaned kids that's getting broken apart, like their families have already done so much of. The other twelves part, leaving the stunned boy there, mouth hanging open slightly. He pales, closes his mouth, and puts his shoulders back, taking one step, than another. Jemma's cries are louder, like gunshots compared to the eerie silence of the crowd.

Leo is about halfway to the stage. No one's moved. Natasha hasn't even breathed, and she exhales slowly, trying to keep calm despite the panick swelling in her chest, the voice in her head screaming, _No, no, no, this can't happen, Leo couldn't have been called, his name's only in there once and he'll be killed, the other tributes only have to have a knife, only have to be bigger than him and he'll die in the Arena._ Her head spins and she feels faint, but a quick glance at the monitors throughout the square shows her face only expresses mild concern.

The curly-haired boy passes the front of the pens, where the eighteens are gathered. Leo falters in his step, looking toward the older boys, and as Natasha follows his gaze she can see a slight disturbance in the crowd. Clint only has to shove the first few boys out of his way, and the other part and create a straight path for him to Leo. Natasha reflects briefly on the possibility of them recognizing that Clint, and his brother, are part of the family whose odds are not in their favor today, and then she wonder what Clint is doing. Saying goodbye? Not with that walk, that determination, that look in his eye as he reaches Leo that says that he's accepted an early death -

"I volunteer!" Clint announces broadly, stepping a bit in front of Leo, a hand on the younger boy's shoulder.

"Oh, I think we have a volunteer," Maria says with a somewhat shocked smile. Natasha's gaze is glued on the boys now, and she can't look away, though it doesn't matter as much because he's not even looking at her. He's looking at Leo, giving him a reassuring smile - and was that a wink? - as though he's protecting him from nothing more dangerous than a shot, as though he isn't saving the other boy's life, let alone sentencing himself to his own death.

"That's just lovely," Maria continues, because her world isn't shattering around her. "But I believe that we're supposed to introduce the reaping winner, and then -"

"What does it matter?" Natasha hears the mayor say from behind her. His voice sound regretful and a bit pained. She wonder's if he recognizes her and Clint, those kids who deliver the fresh strawberries his wife loves? Or if he recognizes Grant, his son's best friend? Or maybe he recognizes Leo and Jemma as the little kids they used to be, almost a decade ago, when the mine accident killed their parents and left them with Melinda. Either way, he recognizes some aspect of the family, and knows enough about the others to know that this will be one of the worst reapings in District 12, since the year the twins went. "What does it possibly matter? Let him come forward."

Clint shoots Leo another smile over his shoulder as he walks forward. He tries to mimics the confidence of the Careers as they proudly volunteer, though he's the only volunteer that most of the crowd can remember. He steps up and even gives Maria a grin.

"Well, bravo! That is the spirit of the Games!" Maria gushes. She's probably only pleased to finally have a district with some excitement going on, Natasha thinks bitterly, and her dislike for Maria Hill strengthens into what might very well be hate. "What's your name?"

"Clint Barton," he says, looking at the crowd, his resolve only wavering when he meets Barney's eyes. To his credit, Clint doesn't look away, just gives him a nod.

"Well, well, well. Come on everybody, let's give a cheer for our newest tribute!" Not one soul applauds. District 12 is shrouded in silence. Natasha muses that she could drop one of her hair pins right now, and she could hear it bounce on the stage. Maria Hill looks at the people staring at the stage, a bit disappointed and with a look of disbelief - How could the entire audience be so rude? - and takes a breath to begin speaking. But she stops short when the crowds begins.

Natasha can't tell what sets it off. A lot of those people she recognizes from trading in the Hob, or from school, or vaguely as they give their condolences to her, or to Grant, to Jemma or Leo all those times when hope was lost. A lot of those people know Clint, with his charm, wit, and simply good nature, who often helps the merchants move crates or spares what little money he has for himself on the poor young kids who can't yet get work.

If the silence is an act of defiance towards the Capitol, then the entire crowd, first one, then another, pressing their three middle fingers to their lips and holding it out to the two tributes is a declaration of love. And the gesture does, in fact, mean that. _It means goodbye_, Natasha thinks,_ to someone dear to you_. But Natasha isn't dear, and neither is Clint. But maybe, him volunteering for her brother made him dear? She's already going to lose her life, she shouldn't have to lose family as well. _But Clint is family._ And now he's something precious, maybe, to the district.

Maria clears her throat. "All right, then." She continues on with something about the Treaty of Treason. Natasha keeps sneaking glances at Clint, but with the way he times his glances at her, he's not trying to be sneaky.

Maria Hill makes them shakes hands as Hydra anthem plays, and with her heart in her throat, Natasha takes his hand in her smaller and paler hand firmly, looking into his blue eyes. And wondering. _So, who's going to kill you?_

* * *

**A/N: Okay. I would just like to say thank you to those who have read, favorite, and followed. A special thanks to the guest, nightmoon1024, and thewatchtower300341 for reviewing. I will be posting within two week, or in less time than that. If I haven't, then I've been eaten by a shark, or taken hostage by a foreign government, or hit on the head by a falling coconut and can no longer remember who I once was. Thanks again for taking the time to read this. Goodnight.**


	3. Chapter 3

She sits on the couch runs one hand over it, the other resting limply in her lap. She mentally prepares for the next hour, because she cannot afford to cry. She is a tribute, and the other tributes will be watching for weakness. The will certainly be cameras at the train station she will be escorted to later, so puffy eyes and a red nose are not an option. The door opens suddenly, and Natasha startles and stands.

Grant, Jemma, and Leo stand in the doorway, two Peacekeepers closing the door behind them. Leo and Jemma rush to her, pushing he back on the couch when the collide with her. The both wrap their arms around her, and Natasha hugs them tightly to her. Grant stands back as the three settle on the couch, but she grabs his hand and pulls him to sit next to Leo. Natasha starts her list of what and what not to do.

Grant, you are coming along at hunting and may be able to pass it along to Leo, and Jemma if she wishes - but Natasha knew that even Leo was a long shot - and Jemma, you can identify all the edible plants in the woods, and I've brought you along the best strawberry patches, so you won't starve in the summer. None of you are to take out tesserae, unless, Grant, you get permission from Melinda.

She continues on, encouraging Grant on his hunting and his determination and Jemma and Leo on their studies, as they are even more advanced than her in school. As she finishes, she places a kiss on each of their foreheads.

"Take care of each other."

Jemma turns in her lap and grabs her face gently but firmly, a gesture that reminds Natasha of when Jemma was very little and was saying the most important thing and Natasha had to listen very carefully _because 'Tasha this is so important._

"We'll be alright, Natasha," the younger girl said softly, her eyes wavering only slightly from the other girl's gaze. "But - but you have to take care too! You're so brave! You're strong and fast and you can hunt! You can win!"

"Maybe." Natasha bit her lip. She can't lie to her, but she will not go down without a fight, that's for sure. "Then we'd be as rich as Coulson."

"I don't care if we're rich!" Leo spoke up, settle right beside Jemma with an equally intense look. "We just need you to come home."

"You will try won't you?" Jemma asked.

"Really, really try?"

"Really, really try. I promise." Natasha hugged them both tight. She will really, really try. For Grant, for Leo, and for her Jemma.

The peacekeepers open the door, time's up, but Natasha can't just let them go. She presses kiss to their heads, saying "I love you" as many times as she can, then letting the two go. Grant tries to follow behind, but Natasha grabs him in a tight, ferocious hug. "I love you, мой солдат." The peacekeepers grab his arm just as he whispers "I love you, too" back and Natasha pretends not to notice his watery eyes.

The door closes, and Natasha's left alone.

She feels numb, and sits back on the couch._ I will never see them again_. She fights back the next waves of tears, staring a hole in the ceiling. The door opens again, but she doesn't look. The soft, yet deliberate loud footsteps, though, are a dead giveaway. The cushion sinks a bit, and a hand rubs a circle in between Natasha's shoulder blades.

She turns her head, and there's that same damn look. _"Natasha, darling, I've got something to tell you."_ The memory hits her like a truck, and a sob escapes her throat. May pulls the girl into her arms.

Melinda remembers when Natasha was small - rather, smaller. The big bright green eyes that saw the world as a wonderful, beautiful mystery. And now she was here, with her god-daughter, in this godforsaken room, and she was just supposed to hand her over to those monsters in the Capitol? Her god-daughter's death would be nothing more than entertainment. Melinda clenches her jaw. "Natasha, darling. You can do this. I know you can. You've got Clint, that stupid kid, and I couldn't be more grateful. You two can keep each other alive, just like you have these past year."

Natasha sniffed. "But what if we do too well? What if it's just us at the end?"

"You'll find a way." May lifted the girl chin with one and wiped away a tear with the other. Hopefully, the redness would fade before long.

Natasha nodded. "I told them not to take any tesserae. Only Grant, if it's absolutely necessary."

"Couldn't have said it better myself. Don't worry about us. Worry about yourself. Even when those other tributes are three times your size, don't give up before it begins. And don't go down without a fight."

"If I go, I'm taking someone down with me," Natasha replies.

May gives a wisp of a smile. "That's my girl." She stand and places a kiss on Natasha's forehead. "Here, take this," she says as she presses something cool and metallic into Natasha's hand. "It was your mother's." It's a bracelet, thin and silver, with a small stone set in. The stone is dark, with flecks of silver and red. It's beautiful. "I was supposed to give it to you on your birthday, but -"

"Thank you."

"Of course. I'll see you when you get back." Before Natasha can interject, May is opening the door and giving her one last Melinda May smile - which was actually a grand gesture for her - and heading out into the hall.

There is a few minutes when she's alone, and she walks over to a small but ornate mirror hanging on the wall. She composes herself, and decides that she doesn't look too weak. The door opens again, and this time it's Barney who steps in.

"Hey, kiddo," he says as he plops down on the couch oh so casually, his hands clasped behind his head and his long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle. It's stunning really, how much he looks like an older, more weary Clint. Clint though, isn't as grown or as wary to the world, instead his fire burns all the more when he's pushed down.

"Hi." Natasha sits next to the older Barton brother.

"Look. I know what you're thinking. One or both of you is going to die. There will be no victory." He suddenly leans forward, leaning his elbows on his knees and grabbing Natasha by her shoulders. He levels his gaze to look into Natasha's shocked, green eyes. "But I believe in my brother. Always have. And what's more, I believe in you. I have always believed in you, every since Clint brought you home and declared you his friend."

"Barney, I can't do this. Clint may be able to, but there's no winning this," Natasha argues, shrugging his hands of her shoulders and standing.

He stands as well, towering over her. His face softens. "Stay safe, and don't let him do anything too stupid. "You know, I've always loved your hair. The bright red, it reminds me of a fire." He hugs her, and leans down to whisper softly in her ear. "So burn them." He straightens up, leaving Natasha even more confused as he gives her a bright smile. He leaves, shutting the door behind him, and it doesn't even occur to Natasha to mourn the losing of yet another important person in her life.

The Peacekeepers then lead her out of the room, the building, and usher her into a car, which arrives at the train station in no time. She spots Clint, and sees that his eyes are a big red, but he seems to keep his composure. _So, he's not going the weakling route, but I guess I never expected him to._ Clint was more direct, though a few years back, a boy from District 7 won the Games with that strategy. Bruce Banner was his name, and he cried when he was reaped, and during the interview, and he was still sniveling when the Games started. The other big tributes when after the threats and, if Natasha recalls correctly, then turned on each other after several allies betrayed the others. Banner made it to the final six without any looking, and proceeded to efficiently and cold-heartedly - yet mercifully - slay four of them in their sleep.

Banner won, but in the Victor's interview, he had this cold look in his eyes, and he was no where near sniveling then. He was almost unstable... but not enough to attract so much attention to the fact.

Natasha and Clint stand in the doorway of the train, camera's trained on them, a bit awkwardly for over three minutes before the door is finally closed. Natasha lets out a sigh of relief, and before she knows it she swept up in a bone-crushing hug from Clint. Even with her feet of the ground, she can feel the train begin to move. The speed takes her breath away, or maybe it's the hug.

"Clint! Can't breathe!"

"Oh, sorry!" He drops her at once, and as she holds her ribs and catches her breath, she can clearly see the crooked grin on his face. It only more satisfying for her to smack it off.

"What the hell are you doing?" Clint sobers up immediately.

"Saving Leo. Did you really want him here?"

"No. I don't. But Leo can't hunt, can't provide -"

"Would you rather him here then me?"

"No, but-"

Clint grabs her shoulders, and for a second, he looks much too like Barney. "Hey. I'm here now. Let's just count our blessings, alright?"

Natasha pulls away, but nods in agreement. When she looks back at the boy, he's enamored by the sight of the passing setting outside. "We're really going, aren't we?"

"It'll take less than a day to make it there," she notes, going to stand beside him. He nods, in a daze. Though they were mostly taught about their inescapable future of working in the mines, they did learn about the history of Hydra, and that the Capitol was somewhere in some mountains - or something. Natasha didn't bother pay attention, as she didn't see how it would be useful. They were also taught math, and some science, but both Leo and Jemma certainly had no future in the mines, and were more apt in those fields. Just thinking about them both makes her sad, and somewhat relieved that neither were here today.

It's at that time that Natasha notices a flash of gold on Clint's chest. "What's that?" she says, reaching toward it.

Clint chuckles. "A gift from Antoine. He couldn't see you, as you as so many visitors. He gave me the pin. Said it was fitting."

"It's a hawk," she notes.

"He said that I have the eyes of a hawk, so I 'might as well take this god awful pin,'" Clint said, smiling. Natasha shakes her head and smiles wryly.

"Hello, dears!" Natasha stifles a groan. Maria Hill looks them over, and to her credit she hides her disdain well. She puts her hands on one of their shoulders and leads them to their room. They're right next to each other, so Natasha doesn't feel to alone. Maria drops Clint of in his door, and takes Natasha into hers.

"Wear anything, do anything you want. It's all at your disposal." She leaves, and Natasha is grateful. As she wonders into the bathroom, she suddenly feels a lot better about her predicament because that shower looks delightful. She peels off her clothes, and takes her first shower. The poor citizens of the district never owned showers, and cold bathes were the only thing available. It doesn't take long for her to figure out how to work the button on the panel, but she does burn her hand in the process.

She pulls out piece after piece of clothing, finally settling on dark pine green shirt and black pants. She decides to go sans shoes, because the train is carpeted so why bother? Maria Hill comes to collect her for dinner, and the girl can't help but stare at the pretty woman, as she no longer was in flashy clothing or bright make-up. Her face was washed, her hair held into a loose bun, and her clothes were just plain and black. Natasha follows her through the posh corridors and leads her to a dining room with polished panel walls. Natasha sits next from Clint and across from their escort. The chair next to her is empty.

"Where is Coulson?" Maria asks brightly, though her voice is an octave lower than the Reaping. Natasha catches herself staring at the woman, and her hatred for her fades. It's a façade, similar to the one Natasha uses.

"Last time I saw him, he said he was going to take a nap," Clint says, shrugging.

"Well, it_ has_ been an exhausting day," Maria replies. Natasha thinks she's worried about the empty seat next to her, and as the dinner goes on - it's delicious, and it comes in courses! - she keeps glancing toward the doors connecting to the quarters.

Maria Hill clears her throat. "It's nice to see you two have manners. Last year, the pair ate everything with their hands. I don't think the girl knew what to use the fork for."

"They were probably from the Seam," Clint notes. Maria nods, and Natasha is yet again surprised. She was sure that she wouldn't know what the Seam was, or what the predicament was, but the understanding in the woman's eyes prove Natasha wrong.

Once the meals over, Natasha feels sick to her stomach. The food was a bit rich, but too delicious for her to stop. Clint has one hand over his mouth casually, but there's the slight panic in his eyes and Natasha can practically see his mind working as he tries to remember where the bathroom is.

Maria Hill leads the two to another compartment, and together they watch the recaps of the Reapings. A few of her fellow tributes stand out to Natasha. A boy from District 2, with a darkly charismatic smile. A sly looking girl from 5. She has pink in her hair. A tall boy with a prosthetic leg from 10. But the one that stands out the most is the girl called before those latter two. A twelve-year-old girl from 3. She has tan skin, and dark brown hair and eyes. She is very much like Jemma in size and demeanor, but there's something about her, and it reminds her of Grant. _It's her fire_, Natasha thinks.

Barney holds her close, whispers in her ear. Burn them.

The moment's lost though, as the screen switches to broadcast District 12. Clint groans as he watches Coulson plummet off the stage again.

"Once again, District 12 is the laughing stock of the Games!"

"Shush," Maria hisses, swatting at Clint's arm. Natasha looks at her with a raised eyebrow, though it's mostly because she doesn't want to see her own face as she is called and mounts the stage.

Then comes the heartwarming - or heartbreaking, depending - part of the broadcast, where Clint volunteers.

"Wow. Is that really what my hair looked like?" the boy jokes, bumping his shoulder into Natasha's.

"Clint, it looks like that everyday. It looks like that now," she replies, bumping into him harder, smirking.

Just then, none other that Phil Coulson stagger into the compartment. He's a bit more sober, but he's holding an icepack to his head. Maria Hill smirks at him as he sits next to her.

"That was one hell of a stage dive," she comments.

"Oh, was it?" She chuckles, patting him on the shoulder as she stand. "No, really, was it? I can't remember."

"Good night, Phil. As one of your new trainees to help you back to you compartment." She leaves, waving and saying goodnight back at them without looking.

The two teens turn their attention to their new mentor. Coulson looks them over, then narrows his eyes. "So... I miss dinner?"

* * *

**A/N: So, I am back. So, yes, I know that was over two weeks, but I had an AP test, and then I went camping for the first time. Those are viable excuses, you have to admit. I was not hit on the head by a falling coconut and rendered unable to remember who I once was - well, actually, I was, but that was resolved before my self-inflicted deadline. Anyway... I just saw the newest X-Men movie and I am pumped. Okay, back to the Author's Note. Thank you guys for taking the time to read this, and I appreciate all of you who followed, favorited, and reviewed. Thanks a million, and goodnight.**


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